


Auriga

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Childhood Sweethearts, Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18834376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: Alex grows up in the world of his father's secrets. He understands the importance of keeping them:Aliens are real, it is their job to keep humanity safe from them.He's in love with the most heavily guarded prisoner.





	1. Chapter 1

“She’ll be dead soon.”

Alex looks down at the alien. His mouth is dry. She’s not the worst one here, not by a long shot. Actually she’s one of the better ones. Better breeding, his father explained. Though the decades of isolation have taken their toll. She’s impassive in the face of her impending death. But there has always been something defiant about her. Defiant and kind. When she arrived, she gave her name as Mara. But Alex knows they aren’t supposed to call them by their names. It humanizes them and they are not human.

“This could be a unique opportunity,” he says, “we could confirm your theory of how their power transfers work.” His father considers this for a moment and Alex does his best to remember to breathe.

“Go get him.”

They are not human is a mantra Alex has to recite over and over again, despite everything he knows. These monsters are the reason he doesn’t have a mother. That so many in Roswell don’t. Though he wraps that knowledge around himself like a shield, some visits are harder than others. Most of the cells are simple, they have good protocols. But the Big Four are separated. They are special. Alex needs two guards to approach the one he wants to take and go through several biometric scans to get in front of his door. As a kid, Alex thought this was where the monsters lived. It wasn’t until he was older that he realized the monsters were his age.

Oh and he was hopelessly attracted to one of them.

Michael is sitting on his bed thumbing through a book. Alex’s eyes move to his hand. Using them to experiment on one another is protocol, but he will go to his grave with the memory of what happened to Michael’s hand burned on the insides of his eyelids. Max, probably the strongest of them, still tries to break free of his restraints whenever Alex comes near Michael. Even now he can feel his gaze on him. He ignores it in favor of tapping on the glass. Michael’s head flies up and he looks around before his eyes land on Alex. Something bright and hopeful cracks across his face like lightening before it vanishes. Something far more defensive and cocky pulls his face into a macho grin.

“Is my favorite Manes here to take me out for a walk?” He asks.

“Hands against the wall,” Alex says and nods to the guards.

He can’t chain him up by himself anymore and his leg is only one of the reasons. They secure Michael and fit him with a mask that keeps him from mouthing off. The others love him and Alex wishes he didn’t understand that so well. Michael is charismatic and loud, he’s everything this carefully maintained hellhole is not. The guards let him know they have secured him. Michael gives him a questioning look and Alex meets his gaze impassively. Michael is also dangerously smart. He’s got more escape attempts than the rest of them combined. He recognizes how serious this is instantly and the swagger folds in. They lead him out and there’s a sharp bang on the other cell. Max glares at him and his eyes soften as he looks at Michael. Some kind of silent exchange happens in a quick glance. Then they move on.

The mask doesn’t restrict Michael’s breathing and Alex hears him inhale sharply the moment he sees her. Alex tries not to think about what is going to happen or if Michael is going to blame him. Instead he focuses on getting him into the cell. Michael takes a step towards her and the guard snaps the chain. It’s a cruel reminder of where they are. Michael turns towards the wall and holds himself still only so they will undo his restraints. He looks at Alex who looks at the guards. Now he can pull rank. He jerks his head and they walk out to go and get his father probably.

“You have a minute, maybe,” he says.

“Fuck you,” Michael bites at him, his voice equally low before he turns, “mom.”

“Oh my sweet boy,” she opens her arms and Michael runs to her, wrapping his arms around her, “look how big you are.”

“That’s just ‘cause your sitting down,” he says. She laughs and runs her fingers through his curls, “they don’t shave my head anymore.”

“I can see that,” she says, “you’re behaving?”

“Yes mom,” He tells her.

“Liar,” She says and he laughs, “come here” she says and Michael kneels in front of her, “you look so much like your father,” she says, cupping his cheek. Michael leans into her touch. It’s easy to see that she’s dying. But Michael doesn’t want to acknowledge it, “Alex,” he turns as she looks at him, “I need you to keep him out of trouble,” she says, “love him.”

“Mom?” Michael’s voice sounds confused and it’s a knife in Alex’s gut.

“Please,” She says. Alex feels something in his head and tries to direct that he will to it, “good,” she looks at Michael and raises her hand.

It’s something they do, Alex doesn’t try to stop them even if the scientists aren’t there. He won’t do that. They will just have to work off the tapes. Michael looks at her hand as it starts to glow and his features twist. A mournful sound escapes him.

“Mom—“

“It’s alright,” She says, “I love you. So much.”

Michael shakes his head but slowly raises his hand. They hold their hands together before Maras face cracks into a wide smile that makes her look so much younger and more alive than she is. Alex can tell something is happening as they hold gazes, tears streaming down their cheeks. She slots her fingers through his and a full body shudder seems to go through Michael. Something happens and Michael drops his hand, winding up with his face in her lap. He sobs and Alex can hear the footfalls. Something is hollow in Maras face as she looks at him, running her hands though Michael’s hair. He steps forward, grasping Michael’s shoulders. Michael turns towards him, tears streaming down his face.

“Come on,” He says.

“What? No,” he says but Alex fights his attempt to go back over her, “no,” he repeats.

“Michael,” Alex looks at him steadily, “they’re coming.”

Michael stares at the door and Alex instantly changes his grip. They come in to the sight of him holding Michael back. The mood instantly changes as Michael starts towards them. Alex can’t hold him back if he wants to get to them, but he’s going to try. One of the scientists looks over at Mara and immediately sounds an alarm. The air seems to go out of the room as Michael’s anger turns to horror.

“Get the crash cart,” one says, “prisoner, prisoner can you hear us?”

“Mom,” Michael’s voice is soft and horrified, then comes out louder, “mom!”

Alex turns him against the wall and pins his hands as gently as he can. He braces Michael with his weight and his body. Michael struggles at first but then he tries to see her. Under the guise of adjusting his grip Alex pushes harder and leans into him, putting their faces closer together. He barely knows Mara but if she wants him to protect her son, the first thing he can do is make sure he doesn’t have to watch her body jump with electricity or the doctors stop trying. One of them pulls a sheet over her out of respect and his father pulls it down. Aliens don’t deserve respect.

There’s nothing human about them.

Michael barely makes it back to the cell, dignity out the window in the face of what has just happened. Even Alex has trouble keeping his face blank. He collapses when the restraints are undone and his knee cracks against the floor with a sound Alex feels in his bones. He knows the risks but he goes over and grips Michael’s arm, trying to help him to his feet. Michael staggers up and shoves him off, staggering over to the bed and collapsing in front of it. It’s a terrible compromise but Alex imagines its the best he’ll get. To his surprise both guards have their backs to him, giving him a moment of privacy. The three of them leave Michael to his grief.

On the way out he looks at Max’s cell, but he’s not there.

“Where is he?” He asks. Instantly he thinks of the uncovered body being wheeled through the halls, “We need to go on lockdown. Now!”

It’s the last thing he says before the explosion.

Alex opens his eyes back in Baghdad, back in the desert and back in the helicopter that took him out. He opens them to impossible darkness and then finally to the hell he’s in. Dimly he thinks Max leveled the prison. Impressive. Then he realizes the prison got leveled while he was on the second floor. His next thought is if Michael is okay. When he tries to move, everything goes white hot and impossibly heavy. He has to wait a moment and then he can try again.

“Michael!”

“Iz? Isobel!”

“Oh thank god. Where’s Max? Did you see him? I think he was downstairs.”

“Go look for him. I’ll meet you in five. I gotta make sure Manes isn’t walking out of here.”

Alex hopes he doesn’t mean him, but if he does that’s probably not a bad thing. In the military he was taught to think of something good, something he wanted to protect and to fight like it was on the line. He instantly thought of Michael. But protecting Michael in his head has always been easier than doing it for real. He’s sure he’ll be judged for it very soon. Michael made it out. That’s what matters. He just wish he could have made it out with his mom. When he opens his eyes he can just make Michael out, silhouetted against the fiery wreckage. Michael twists one way, then the other, then he stomps and the shockwave goes through everything. Alex is pretty sure he screams or he tries to. But once the debris holding him down are gone, it’s like removing the plug and there’s blood everywhere.

“Shit, no,” Michael comes running over to him, dropping down. His hands go all over like he doesn’t know where to touch him. Alex imagines it doesn’t matter. Michael turns and looks at him, horror on his face. Somewhat like with his mom but Alex knows that’s self indulgent of him. He can have it though right now, “Alex.”

It’s so strange to hear his name on Michael’s lips again.

“I’m sorry,” he says around the blood, “I’m so sorry.”

Michael’s features harden. That’s a look he deserves. Of course it’s still beautiful, everything on Michael always has been. Michael postures up on his knees and cracks his knuckles. Alex remembers that day. He wonders if Max’s healing can help the inside wounds Michael’s got. He hopes so. If the universe is kind enough to grant him a dying wish, he would wish for that. Heedless of the blood, Michael shoves up his shirt and puts his hand on his sternum. He seems unsure of what to do with the other, but he settles for putting it on his prosthetic. Alex feels the warmth and for a moment, he thinks maybe it’s just the shock. But the warmth builds and turns hot. Scalding. Alex feels himself knitting back together, like someone is rewinding him to the moment before the prison explosion. Michael rips his hands back and Alex feels his prosthetic come back together in the same instant.

He’s alive.

He shoves himself up. His mind says he has to spit out the blood but his mouth is empty. His uniform is pristine. There’s no evidence of him dying and he knows how close he was. Michael holds his gaze, something pained and relieved in his eyes. Alex instantly thinks of Mara and her kindness. Of all the power transfer theories. Apparently they were right. Michael sways but moves back and gets to his feet when Alex makes the mistake of reaching for him. Alex pulls back and gets to his own feet, still unable to take his eyes off of him.

“You should have let me die,” he says.

“Call it payback,” Michael says, “I know you always tried with me.”

“Not enough,” he says.

“No,” Michael agrees, “but my mom made you promise. I know you take those seriously,” Alex looks down and tries not to think about being young and stupid and thinking he could change things because he loved Michael enough. The world doesn’t work like that, “so it’s time to play up.” Max and Isobel come towards them, Max is angry and isobel is confused but goes to anger easily. Neither of them scares him as much as Michael when he takes a step forward, “Get us out of here.”

He could say no. He could refuse and never see them again. He’s been coming to this place and seeing them in one way or another for most of his life. His father is possibly dead, though he doubts it. But he could leave all of this behind or let them kill him. He doesn’t deserve to die among the innocent, he knows that. They know it too. Isobel starts forward and Michael warns her off before looking back at Alex. In his most secret dreams, he’s thought about this moment in a hundred different ways but never like this. He tucks his shirt in straightens what he can.

“Find whatever clean uniforms you can,” He says, “this will be easier if you don’t look like escaped prisoners. I’ll find us a car.”


	2. Chapter 2

Alex does not stop moving.

He is a trained soldier, he completes his mission. He also knows that Michael, Isobel and Max are probably in shock. So he finds them uniforms and they shed their clothes, pulling things on. They are all careful not to touch as they do it. Whatever Michael did, it undid everything when it came to his physical body but the uniform is still filthy. He mops his face as best he can and changes quickly into a new one. He brings the old ones with them. The less evidence they leave the better. They don’t look military enough to pass a second inspection. But he doesn’t plan on them needing that.

By sheer dumb luck he finds his car and makes quick work of anything that could give away their location. He swaps license plates and shoves all their old uniforms into the trunk. They all clamber in. Max and Isobel collapse against each other in the back seat. Siblings, he heard they were siblings. But he hasn’t seen them together since before he went to war, and even then they weren’t allowed to embrace like this. Michael takes shotgun and watches him as he starts the car and gets them out of there.

Under Michael’s intense gaze, he has to struggle to keep his driving on point. Even though he’s been driving since he was a kid. Michael is dangerously intelligent, everyone knows that. Worse though, he’s curious. Michael devours information like no-one else he’s ever met, alien or otherwise. Sometimes he thinks information is more nourishing to Michael than the gruel they give him. Michael follows every move that he makes as he makes his way toward the highway. It’s a rookie mistake to think that navigating the back roads is going to help them now. He needs to get them away.

What is or isn’t a rookie mistake though, it doesn’t matter. He knows that. It doesn’t matter. Driving is the only thing that matters. The determination he feels to make sure they don’t just wind up back in the box takes over every single thought. Until it thrums in time with his heartbeat. The people in this car are the only thing that matters. Keeping them safe is all that matters. They are his family. His family—

He slams on the breaks.

“What the hell?” Michael demands.

They aren’t his family. Alex knows that. His family is laying in the rubble of the prison that Max just blew up. And the two people in the back matter only because they matter to the man sitting next to him. And even then it’s not the overwhelming desire that’s pouring through his head. This isn’t his desire. No, this is Michael’s desire. Michael’s feelings. Alex is feeling them because somewhere underneath the stolen uniform is a very real handprint that has created a very real bond between his emotions and the emotions of the one person he’s spent a half lifetime trying to deny he feels anything for.

“Get out of my head,” Alex says, “now.”

Michael smirks and it’s a predators smile. The kind he has been looking at his entire life. He’s been telling himself for years the glass doesn’t matter. It might as well not be there. In the moment with him sitting so close it actually does matter. Michael’s predator smile flickers. Alex can hardly tell the difference between his own guilt and the guilt that radiates across the bond. All the tests they’ve done tell him that the bond doesn’t just turn off. Even when one party is dead. Michael can’t do anything about it anymore than he can. And this is the first time any of them have been out with a lone guard. Even he can’t ask Michael not to feel things. He looks in the mirror and locks eyes with the only person who knows more.

“Is there anything we can do to block this?” He asks.

“You’re the scientist,” Max replies.

Max has just blown up a building that has stood for longer than he’s been alive. He’s probably killed Alex’s entire family. But Alex doesn’t feel any fear, though logically he knows he should. There was a time that Max did scare him, but never enough to keep him from going over to Michael. It’s another moment when he realizes how much the glass mattered. Mattered and didn’t, he doesn’t think having it there could have stopped him. Now though when he looks at Michael, there’s a mix of love and affection that Alex hasn’t felt towards his own brothers since he was a very small kid. He sees Michael whip around in the seat, glaring daggers at the pair in the back.

“You are not helping,” Michael snaps.

“Why would i want to help the man whose imprisoned us our entire lives?”  Max questions.

“You got a better idea?” Michael demands, “I’m all ears.”

“Literally anyone else,” Isobel snaps.

She locks eyes in the mirror with him and Alex swears he can feel her slip in there with Michael. The desire to start the car is overwhelming. To just keep driving. He can take them where they need to go—the nicest hotel nearby—and then he can just keep walking until he gets back to the prison and—

“Iz!” Michael bellows her name and the desire is shoved back and away, leaving him with both his hands locked on the steering wheel, “neither of you is helping right now.”

He turns forward and closes his eyes. Everything doesn’t go away, it more goes transparent. He can feel his own thoughts at the surface, like they’re floating there. Taking a deep breath, he watches as Michael does the same, blowing it out in the same soft exhale. Isobel isn’t right about a lot of things, but she is right about them getting off the road. The sooner he finds somewhere, the better they’ll be. The adrenaline coursing through them all is probably the only thing that’s keeping them going. He’s confident in his own abilities to push past the limits of his body, but with Michael like a blanket in his head he has a feeling when the alien goes down, he will be following. Michael keeps taking the deep, measured breaths that Alex has been taught to do since he was a child. He only knows it because Alex told him. Alex has never considered himself a traitor in any real way. Not before this night, anyway.

“Keep doing that,” he says and Michael dips his head.

Alex puts the car in gear and concentrates on putting a decent amount of distance between them and the prison. Just decent. Too far and it will look like they’re running. They will never be able to outrun the might of the government in his car. He drives a practical car, one step from a soccer mom van according to anyone close to his age. He can’t outrun the government with three of their highest prized targets like this. But he can hide. He drives until he finds some old motel, one that fits between fleabag and hide here. Something where it wouldn’t be the first thought to look. He turns off the car and looks at the three of them. Michael stops breathing like he has been and Alex has to fight the grief that threatens to choke him.

“I’m going to get us rooms,” he says, “we need somewhere to hide while we figure out our next move.”

He gets out of the car.

He comes back with two keys.

“Come on.”

He leads them to the rooms which are next to each other and thankfully adjoining. While he isn’t surprised to see that each only has one big bed, it’ll prevent a problem. Or not. The three aliens crowd into one of the rooms and put the door as close to closing as possible. Alex finds himself in the room all alone, with Michael once again thrumming in his head. The pure happiness almost gets past the waves of misery he’s feeling. But not quite. He makes his way over to the bed. Even in his own place, his bed is much more narrow. When he reaches out to pull off the cover, he leaves a sooty handprint. Though he has a million things to do, Alex can’t resist going over to the bathroom.

He doesn’t recognize the person in the mirror.

Alex has always been his father’s son, but he was also property of the US Military. He’s been a guard at the prison for the past year. His appearance has always been carefully tailored to reflect the impenetrable front his family is known for. Nothing flaps the Manes boys. Not the fact that they are torturing aliens, not that aliens are real, not that their mother isn’t around or their father speaks as more with his fists as he does with his words. They are untouchable. And as long as that untouchable front stays in place, everything will be alright.

That front is very much not there. His skin is streaked with soot, though a lot of it has been moped off by his sleeve. Not in his hair, though it’s dark color makes it hard to see. It’s caked on his fingernails and his palms. If he hadn’t changed his uniform, he’s sure it would be there too. Alex may not be sure if he’s a traitor, but he refuses to be a coward. He scrubs his hands and dries them on the scratchy towel before he takes off his tie and undoes the buttons. He forces his eyes to the mirror and pulls apart his shirt.

Michael’s handprint glows against his skin.

The air rushes out of his lungs. It’s right _there_. Outlined in red, the rest of it is pearlescent and shifting between a dozen different colors. He’s seen Michael’s files, he’s helped update them. He knows his handprint. Until that moment, the most physical contact they’ve had is when he’s putting him in chains. Now his handprint is seared onto his sternum. Alex’s fingers hesitate a moment before they brush the edge of it. The colors swirl at the point of impact, like it’s a living thing. The only marks Alex has on his body are scars. Scars that are from battles against enemies. All enemies, foreign and domestic. He took an oath. Dying for his country is something he has come close to doing. Something he’s been prepared to do since he was a child.

He doesn’t know how to reconcile that with being saved by the very thing he’s fighting against.

Michael finds him on his knees in front of the sink and for the first time, Alex has no trouble separating the two sets of emotions. He’s not concerned or curious or worried. He doesn’t want to help. He’s sick and every promise his father made about what would happen if he couldn’t overcome his feelings is happening. But sick is the only thing that translates and it’s echoed with concern as Michael comes into the bathroom and crouches in front of him. Alex looks at him and for the third time that night, he wishes again for the glass that separated them. For things to go back to how they had been, even as his entire being knows this is better. When he opens his mouth, no words come out. No words even happen in his head. He’s used to not speaking, to keeping his silence and his secrets. He’s not used to feeling blank.

Michael reaches towards him, only slightly and Alex jerks back so violently it’s as if he’s been struck. If two people feel the emotions across the bond, the evidence has told them that it’s stronger. He doesn’t know who is more disappointed in him. Probably his father, if you can feel things wherever he is. His son is cowering against the lip of a tub, shirtless, while an alien who is on his level is crouched there with no fear. It’s odd how when he was in a building that was literally coming down around him, it didn’t feel that way. Not like it feels the world is coming down around him right now. Michael straightens up. Alex has always savored the inch he has on him in some petty boyhood way. But now Michael towers over him in so many more ways than he ever thought.

“I’m gonna wait for you out there,” Michael says quietly.

Watching him retreat without the glass is strange. It turns it from a _can’t_ to a _won’t_. Alex has spent most of his life dreaming about the day when he could be around Michael and there wouldn’t be glass in the way. Now he’s faced with it and Michael is as untouchable as he ever has been. Alex watches as he goes over to the bed and tugs back the top cover, folding it to the bottom and perching on top of it. It’s the first time he’s had a moment’s privacy and Alex is painfully aware that somehow he’s still under observation.

Then the door nudges almost shut and cuts off his line of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

The bed is so big.

It’s a weird thing to focus on. But everything else he’s seen. There are—were—big rooms and big TVs, big couches and big windows. But beds. The only kind of bed Michael has ever seen has been a narrow, short one that always has Max and Isobel grumbling about how their feet almost touch the edge. Michael doesn’t have that problem. But they could stretch out not touch anything. He knew it was going to be something stupid and small that set him off. Apparently it’s the bed. He wonders if his mom knew that they made beds so big. What would she do with that knowledge? Did she ever dream of having a big bed? Or any of the things that he didn’t know existed? There’s a passing stab of frustration and a question of what the hell is he supposed to do now? But Michael can feel the emotions coming from the bathroom and across the bond that stretches between him and Alex. It’s a bond he usually only has with Max and sometimes with Isobel depending on how twisted the experiments are.

He’s never healed someone before. 

He’s not sorry that he did it. He’s a little sorry he inadvertently kidnapped Alex but not for healing him. His mom dying is never leaving his head but she was old and they were together at least. She’s at peace, whatever that means. At the very least she’s not in pain and she isn’t in her cell. She’s free too. There’s some comfort in that. Finding Alex crushed and bleeding and still apologizing as he choked on his blood—Michael doesn’t want that in his head. Doesn’t want to remember the feeling of broken ribs and hot skin as he flattened his hand against Alex’s crushed sternum. He always thought Alex would be cool and not burning as his blood filled places it wasn’t supposed to go. Since his father sent him away he had dreams of Alex dying like that. But never with the apology. The apology made it so much worse. He knows he deserves the apology but he deserves it from people who are dead. Not from Alex whose shown him the only kindness he’s ever know from a human his own age. So he healed him and then kidnapped him. 

Oh fuck he’s abducted Alex.

He doesn’t know why that occurs in this moment but it knocks him down and makes him sit hard on the intimidatingly large bed. He’s heard so many stories about what the aliens will do if they abduct a human. He’s always rolled his eyes and as he’s gotten older, he’s pointed out that he’s the one whose kidnapped and it absolutely counts that it’s just a floor up from his mom. Now he’s proven all of them right. He’s abducted Alex instead of healing him and running away. Shit, he didn’t mean to do that. Logically it makes sense to take someone who knows about the world outside the prison and Alex is someone he trusts but still. Abducting him? The bathroom door opens and he looks up. Alex is pale and hovers by the bathroom, his fingers itching towards the handprint and Michael feels lower than dirt.

“You can go,” he blurts out. Alex’s head flies up, “you got us here, you can go and just wait a bit before you say we took you against your will. They won’t hold it against you that we took you, right?”

He’s heard the guards making jokes when someone messes up, but it’s usually settled within a few days. The worst he’s seen is someone getting a new nickname like Butterfingers or Keys. Maybe Alex can be Abductee Alex or something.

“I’m not leaving you here,” Alex says.

“Look the connection’s gonna wear off in a bit and then you can just—“ he trails off before setting his features, “you don’t have to stay.”

Alex never has to stay, is the bitch of it. For the past decade he’s been more of a ghost than a person Michael sees regularly. Alex has wanted to be away from him. He has to remind himself of that constantly. Because in the beginning he spent days beating his hands bloody against the glass, demanding to know where he was. What they had done with him. Until Jesse Manes had come and informed him Alex had made a choice. Michael hadn’t believed it until war spat Alex back out, missing a leg and everything that made him the kind of person who would spent hours on the floor outside Michael’s cell. Alex’s humanity had gotten Michael through everything. For Alex to not even want to look at him, it made him feel like the monster he was always accused of being.

“I know,” Alex says quietly.

“So why are you trying to go through the wall?” Michael questions.

Alex realizes he’s pressed against it and his features draw together in frustration. Michael bites down on his lip. Maybe everyone approaches becoming an orphan differently. Maybe Alex wants to be as far away from him as possible. Even as Michael wishes desperately that they could be closer together. It’s a load of fucking bullshit, he thinks, that he’s there wishing he could be with Alex and Alex, who could leave, is standing there refusing to do so. It’s like he has all the power. Again. Because he does have all the power and they both know it. 

“Are you afraid of me?” Michael asks, “do you think I’m gonna hurt you without the guards and the doors?”

“What?” Alex’s brow draws together and Michael feels his confusion, “no! I just—“ he takes a deep breath, “I don’t like having anyone in my head.”

“It’s just me,” Michael says and doesn’t broach the trust issue. It’s a knot he doesn’t have the energy to untangle, “I just feel your emotions, you feel mine if you focus, it’s not like I’m gonna find your computer password or something.” Alex gives a tight smile at his attempted humor, “What are you afraid of me seeing?”

The direct question seems to cripple Alex and Michael realizes they’re both longing for the out of guards and rotations and his dad. But it’s been a long ass day and they can’t afford for this to be a thing. They have to figure out their next move sooner rather than later.

“It’s not you,” Alex says.

“Then what—“ he frowns, “what are you afraid of?”

Alex doesn’t answer in words.

Instead Michael gets a bombardment of abstract feelings. Affection and hope and the overwhelming desire to protect. And underneath that is a current of something so strong and powerful that if it didn’t echo what he felt, Michael is sure that he would think Alex is insane. You aren’t supposed to feel that way if you haven’t touched someone. If you haven’t been alone with them. If your only interactions have been through a pane of glass and when you’ve slid cuffs on them. And Michael knows Alex loves him in a very abstract way, something he can’t dismiss as some forbidden fruit bullshit like he could when they were young. But what he’s thought of as an abstract thing is something very, terrifyingly real. 

“Okay okay!” 

Alex rips himself away. 

They breathe hard in perfect sync. Some of the aliens have psychic powers, especially after healing. But some have them without an established connection. All the guards are trained to deal with their thoughts being read. He knows the rumors that Alex is terrible at it and therefore he’s not allowed to interact with most of them. It’s a weakness. One of several that bring Jesse Manes embarrassment. Michael has watched Alex double down on anything he’s not good at and he’s never understood why Alex just accepts the weakness and doesn’t even try to get better. 

Alex is in love with him.

Alex has always been in love with him, since he knew what that word meant. Since they were kids. Alex has loved him across continents and with the threat of his father breathing down his neck. Michael has never had anything to lose. He’s never had anything, period. But he always thought that if he did one day he would guard it selfishly. He wouldn’t let anyone break anything that was his. Alex has had everything to lose this entire time. And he would if anyone found out what he felt for Michael. Suddenly his concern about him being in his head makes a lot more sense. It’s not because it’s him, it’s because anyone being in there is terrifying. It has been for Alex’s entire life.

“I get it,” Michael says. Alex nods, “could you—“ Michael’s tongue drags across his lips. Does he even have the right to ask for anything, “could you come here? If that’s okay? I wanna try something.”

Alex approaches him warily and after a moment, he sits down on the edge of the bed. The distance is still more or less the same as if they were still on opposite sides of a prison door. Alex is cautious but Michael can see him trying to relax. 

Here,” Michael says, “open your shirt, or lift it up.” Cautiously Alex chooses the unbuttoning. He still remembers being torn apart, he’s not ready to be exposed like that. Michael’s eyes darken at the sight of the handprint. Some part of him he’s denied his entire life is very, very pleased at the mark he’s left on Alex. It’s proof that he’s touched him, after a lifetime of being told that he isn’t allowed to do it. His drag up to his face, lingering on different planes of him. Alex feels exposed but he shows he doesn’t care towards Michael, “if I put my hand on you we can get past all this awkward shit and talk about what we need to,” he says seriously, “that sound good to you?”

“I can’t believe you’re appealing to my sense of efficiency,” Alex mutters but scoots slightly closer, dropping his leg so they aren’t touching. He goes to open his shirt fully but Michael shakes his head, “I can—“

“You don’t need to do that,” he says.

Alex drops his hands and Michael leans forward and slips his hand into Alex’s shirt. There’s still a bubble of space between them and Michael has to twist his wrist to get his hand flat. Alex is cool, everything is exactly where it should be. There’s no blood or anything else, Alex isn’t apologizing and dying. Alex does his best to breathe without disturbing his hand and holds himself still for longer than Michael thought he would.Being still isn’t exactly Alex’s forte and before long his forehead creases and he looks down at the hand, then at Michael who smiles up at him through his curls.

“Are you doing anything?” Alex asks.

“Yeah is it working?” Michael deadpans and for a moment Alex believes him before he realizes he’s joking.

Alex rolls his eyes. A warm rush of affection sweeps through Michael, reminding him why he’s opening himself up to this. Surrendering what little hand he has to play. He smooths out his smile and reached for the new power that’s not fully swirled with his own. Alex takes a deep breath that makes his belly press against Michael’s hand. He tries not to be focused on that and instead focuses on everything else, trying to compose what he’s about to show him. His mom was so good at this, his mind slides effortlessly to the precious memories he has of her explaining how she did it. Michael knows he has little practice and that he’ll be woefully inadequate compared to her, but he has to try. His mom always said it was easiest with someone you loved and if your hearts felt the same, it was effortless. So this should be easy. He smiles at Alex. 

“Sorry, that was too good. Okay, now I’m starting.”

Alex takes a deep breath and Michael starts on the exhale. 


	4. Chapter 4

_“I double dog dare you!”_

_Alex’s ten year old heart stops in his chest. Flint grins with triumph. A double dog dare is not something to be taken lightly. Even their big brothers have glanced over to see what Alex is going to do. He sets his shoulders and looks at Flint._

_“I hope you like taking out the trash.”_

_The prison is its own kind of hell. The noise is muffled by the thick panes of glass. You hear the echoes of sound but nothing else. Alex has been taught to walk proudly, shoulders back and head high. These things are monsters trying to trick him. Trying to trick them all. And Alex is smart enough to know better than to fall for such things. So he walks through the prison and up the  stairs. There’s only one cell he ever looks at. The monster in there looks at him longingly. Sometimes she smiles. His dad says she wants to steal him away and replace the son she lost. When his dad is mean, Alex kind of hopes that she will._

_He doesn’t look as he passes this time but he can feel her watching. He glances back to see her pressed against the glass, staring at him. It’s unnerving to see her so quiet and serious. But he’s nervous. As Jesse Manes son he has almost unlimited access. Alex is smart, he knows that he is to grow up hating aliens. But he’s also supposed to grow up hating things he likes. It’s confusing. So he makes his way to the section where the most dangerous are. The Big Three. He is supposed to sit with his back to one of them for a minute._

_He picks one and sits down, fighting his urge to run. He takes deep breaths like he is supposed to when he starts to panic. In the cell he hears something. Somethings coming. His dad designed these with two very smart people. They’re strong. He can barely hear anything. Risking it, he glances out of the corner of his eye._

_All he sees are curls._

_Alex snaps back forward, his heart pounding in his throat. This must be the worst of them because it’s not tall. Or not much taller. Heart still in his throat, Alex turns around again and sees the monster is glancing towards him out of the corner of its eye. He turns back around. Has a minute passed? He can’t tell. He counts to ten in his head and then turns around completely. A beat later the monster whip around too. Alex is so stunned he drops from his crouch position to his knees. On the other side of the glass the monster cocks its head to the side, not sure what to make of this. He cautiously gets to his feet and comes to the glass, peering out at the other two cells. Then he sits down and crosses his legs._

_“Hi,” Alex gets out._

_“Hi,” the monster echos, still unsure. Maybe it’s imitating him._

_“Did you just lose your tooth?” Alex asks._

_“Yeah!” Then monster says, peeling up his lip to show the spot, “it means my new teeth are coming in.”_

_“I lost that one already,” Alex tells him, “this ones loose though,” he wiggles his loose tooth with his tongue._

_“Awesome! I don’t have any other loose ones. They only get loose one at a time for me. Probably because we’re different inside.”_

_“Yeah probably,” Alex says, relaxing slightly._

_“I’m Michael,” the alien says abruptly._

_“I’m Alex.”_

_“We can’t shake but we can high 5,” he says, “I do it with my brother. Ready? 1, 2—“_

_They smack the glass on 3._

* * *

_Michael didn't know there were boys out there his age._

_He thought people came as old twisted things with dead eyes._

_"No, no they're born and they grow like you," his Mama says in one of their rare visits._

_"Am I gonna be that tall one day?" he asks._

_"Maybe," she says, "your father was tall," she combs his curls, "what was your friend's name?"_

_"Alex," Her hand pauses in his curls and he turns to look at her. She looks at the guard who turns away, "is something wrong? Is Alex is trouble?"_

_"No, sweetheart, but if anyone asks don't tell them his name. Names are secrets sometimes."_

_"Okay," Michael says and doesn't think much of it._

* * *

_“You have to carry the 1,” Michael mumbles._

_Alex turns sharply._

_Whatever this latest experiment, Michael is weaker and paler than Alex has ever seen him. Even when he visits the most Michael can do is crawl to the spot where Alex can see him. Mostly he stays tight in a ball in the bed. They’re just hitting puberty now and Alex understands more about the world than he did as a kid. He doesn’t think the aliens belong out with everyone, but something strikes him as inherently wrong about this. The most he can do is visit Michael and sit outside his room though. And he still has homework._

_“The 1,” Michael repeats, coming over to the glass, “you’re forgetting to carry it.”_

_Alex quickly redoes everything and the equation balances out. Michael folds his body and presses his back to the glass. His curls get smooshed against it. Alex frowns. All of their visits are supervised, they are monitored always. The big three not being aggressive is the only reason he can be there. Alex shifts his body, if he turns just right he knows the cameras won’t get him. They can hear him though. It’s dangerous still and every hair on his arm stands up as he jots his notebook and presses it to the glass, tapping it. Michael tilts his head up and then turns around._

_“Like that?” Alex asks._

_Michael looks at the words and wonder fills his eyes. He nods._

_“Yeah, thanks.”_

_Alex brings the notebook back quickly and scribbles out “I hope you feel better” so no-one will see._

* * *

_"Your dad's in charge right?"_

_On other side of the glass, Alex glances up through his bangs. One of his eyes is swollen and dark. Michael's got no feeling on the right side of his body after they injected him with something green. It's better than the purple injection that makes him shake all night. Michael waits to see what Alex is gonna say. Alex licks his lip and nods._

_"How come you didn't tell me?" Michael asks._

_"I didn't want you to hate me," Alex says._

_Michael laughs. Alex frowns and looks over his shoulder and then at the clock and then back to Michael. He looks sad and hopeful and scared all at the same time and his expression goes somewhere to annoyance. Michael drags himself forward using his left arm and Alex looks pained but Michael quickly rearranges his limbs into something closer resembling a seated position and tucks his arm in. Still laughing._

_"You're funny," he says, "of course I wouldn't hate you. You didn't lock me up."_

_The pained annoyance gives way to a much better expression on Alex's face and he scoots a bit closer._

_"He did this," he says pointing to his eye. Then he looks down, "do you remember your dad?" he asks._

_"No," Michael says, "I think he's dead," he pushes the thoughts away, "I got my mom though. And you. And Max and Iz," he says, "so it's not all that bad."_

* * *

_“Michael?”_

_Michael is sitting in his usual spot but his hood is tugged up high. Alex frowns, the cord’s removed from the garment but it’s so high it almost covers his head. His eyes are red but the look on his face is set with defiance. He also won’t look at him. Alex knows that Michael is a monster, a thing not a person. But he’s never been unable to look at him before. Alex does the only thing his puberty addled brain can do and tries to get lower on the ground. His father will probably take his belt to him later but Alex doesn’t care at the moment._

_“What’s wrong? Why do you have your hood up?”_

_He ignores the thump from another cell. All his attention is on Michael who finally, finally glances at him. Alex wills their eyes to stay together. Alex gives his best puppy eyes, the look that only ever worked on his mom. Michael hangs his head and then reaches up, pushing back his hood just enough that Alex can see the smooth skin of his skull. There’s no vanity here but Michael looks chillingly like the prisoners everywhere else. It’s a violation of his autonomy. Michael knows he has curly hair. Now it’s like he’s a blank slate. His eyes dart up to Alex and then he yanks his hood higher up. But whatever he sees on Alex’s face is enough to make him scoot closer._

_“I don’t understand why they would do that,” Alex says, “you three are hermetically sealed. You’re not going to get lice.”_

_No-one is. Logically he knows that’s not the reason their heads are shaved but his brain clings to any shred of innocence he can._

_“It’s just hair,” Michael says, but his voice is choked and rough._

_“No, it’s your hair,” Alex argues, “I’m gonna fix this,” he says._

_“Don’t,” Michael says, “it’s not a big deal—“_

_“I can do this,” Alex snaps. This one thing he can do. He can get them to stop shaving their heads, “this is ridiculous. I’ll fix this.”_

_He gets whipped with his dad’s belt that night for laying in front of the cell. And again for promising anything to the monsters. Eventually after many of these his father punished him by making him be the one who has to clean out the cells. In return he stops shaving their heads, for now. Alex doesn’t care as he scrubs while they’re shuffled around, when Michael is led back in chains his hood is down and Alex can see the fuzz growing back. Michael beams even as he scratches his head and tells Alex how weird the fuzz feels._

_It’s more than worth the scar Alex will wear across his flank for the rest of his life._

* * *

_He realizes he’s in love with Michael when he’s half asleep._

_Dreaming about boys isn’t anything new. Alex knows his mind is corrupted and his body is as well. He has a few posters of girls up to keep his brothers off his back but it’s the musicians who he thinks of with his hand around himself. Only this time Jade Puget’s hair curls and his leather pants become standard issue prisoner scrubs and in his dream it’s Michael whose kissing his neck, wrapping his hand over Alex’s and guiding his pace. His intelligent eyes are focused on him and his hands are impossibly smooth as they push through his hair and tighten around his length. It's Michael whose doing it in his head and the fear at this makes dream Michael pull back._

_“You good?” He asks and instead of muffled by glass, his voice is sharp and clear. Alex reminds himself this is his head, he’s in control, no one can see, “Alex?”_

_In his dream no one can see. There's no risk like there is in the prison of someone getting in his head. The danger is only there when they are near them. Not when they are alone and not when they are home. He's safe here. Here is head can be his own. He's allowed to want Michael in this one place in the universe. Michael's face is concerned and his soft hands have stopped moving. Even in his dream Michael shows him more understanding than anyone Alex has met._

_“I’m good,” Alex says and pulls Michael down by his curls._

_He is good._

_He is also a traitor and when he finishes he bites down on the pillow in a desperate attempt to not make a sound._

* * *

_"How was the serum test, any response last night?"_

_Michael thinks of Alex pulling him down by his curls and moaning into his mouth. Of looking so scared and hungry and wanting him. Even in his stupid scrubs. He thinks of feeling Alex and watching him work himself as he held him, touching him in every way that he could._

_"No."_

* * *

_Michael cries out as his hand breaks._

_Across the table, Max lunges and it takes five men to hold him back._

_“Time?” His father asks, putting down the hammer._

_“Ten point twenty, twenty one,” Alex reads from the stopwatch. Michael whimpers and tries to get at his hand but the cuff keeps it firm, “fifteen—“_

_“Do it,” his father says and they let Max go. He lunges and heals Michael’s hand, “restrain him,” his father orders and they pull him back. It’s a test, Alex says, he’s seen these done thousands of times. This is no different. He can have Michael in his head, not anywhere else. And saying that it's Michael and he should somehow be treated differently will only make this worse. He has to stand there and watch and help. They switch cuffs. His father picks up a new hammer and brings it down. “Time?”_

_“Two point three, four”_

_“Release him,” his father says when he gets to fifteen and Max dives forward._

_Nothing happens._

_Michael looks up blearily and Max stares at him in horror even as his eyes struggle to focus. They've been doing this for hours. They've found the limit of Max's powers. Alex feels sick. Sick and disappointed. Michael can always go farther and do more, they know that, but seeing Max reach his limit makes Alex want to vomit. He is spent. He’s spent and Michael’s hand is a twisted, mangled thing between them. Alex swallows bile as he grips the watch. Michael stares at Max and Max focuses on Alex._

_“Monster,” he spits and crumples._

_“Max!” Michael bolts to his feet, reaching for his brother. But his hand bends and he double over, crying out, “Max!”_

_“Limit obtained, return them to their cells.”_

_Alex moves forward and Michael turns away. He hesitates only a moment, in something that could be misconstrued as a simple stumble, before coming forward anyway and undoing the cuff. He’s as gentle as he can be while appearing fully steady, but Michael still whimpers as he takes off the cuff and gets him to his feet._

_“Shackle him.”_

_“No!”_

_His father stares at him and Alex glares right back. He cannot be serious. Michael can barely stand. But his father comes towards them and twists Michael's arm behind his back. He ignores how Michael yells through his teeth as he manipulates the broken hand into the cuff, chaining them together. Michael is ghost pale and his curls and plastered with sweat as he gasps. Even the rest of the guards who are fine with what goes on in this place look sick at the sight. Jesse shoves Michael at him so the ruined bones of Michael's hand collide with Alex’s sternum. The feeling will haunt him until he dies. All he can do is steady the hand as best he can while Michael heaves._

_“Report after he’s in.”_

_He takes Michael to his cell as quickly as he can, desperate to avoid the cell they have to pass to get there. He tries to get Michael past it but he drags his feet. Mara is there, hand pressed to the glass and concern on her features. By the time Michael looks at her, she’s staring back and smiles. The loss of momentum makes Michael stumble and Alex just manages to keep him on his feet._

_“Mama?” Michael sways._

_“You’re okay,” Mara says firmly, “just go get some rest.”_

_Michael nods. Alex pushes him to the stairs. Only he can see the horror that covers her face and the way she claps both hands over her mouth, doubling over so he can’t hear her sob. If the feel of his ruined hand will haunt him, the sounds of both of them screaming will never leave his ears.  He brings Michael into his room, turning him to the wall. He's as careful as he can be when he undoes his hand, guiding it to Michael's chest and supporting it as he undoes his other before pulling the chains away. Before he can think twice he grabs a shirt and folds it, tying it behind Michael's neck so his hand is in the sling._

_“M’sorry,” Michael mumbles, “I just wanted him to stop.”_

_Alex doesn’t know what possesses him to knock their lips together. Probably the same thing that possesses Michael to kiss him back. Maybe he knows the chances of him seeing him ever again are slim. Maybe he’s just young and stupid._

_“Alex—“ Michael breathes his name._

_“I have to go,” Alex says, shoving himself away._

_“Alex!” He locks the door, “Alex!”_

_He ships out to Iraq the next morning._

_It’s five years before he sees Michael in anything but passing._

* * *

_The first few months that Alex doesn't come around, Michael demands answers._

_"Where is he?" he questions everyone who comes in, "where's Alex? What did Jesse do to him?!"_

_Max and Isobel tell him to stop and he ignores them. They start testing his physical endurance and 'limits' but Michael knows they are trying to get him to give up. Fat chance of that. He wants to know where Alex is. He doesn't believe them when they say Alex left willingly. That's bullshit. Alex loves him, Alex kissed him, Alex wouldn't do that! He causes such a ruckus that Jesse Manes himself pays him a visit._

_"My son is clearing his head and serving his country," Jesse says._

_"Fuck you," Michael snaps._

_"He understands what needs to be done," Jesse tells him, "it was his choice to go. Not that I expect you to understand something like choice."_

_"And whose fault is that?" Michael sneers, :"you sent him there."_

_"Only because you corrupted him, otherwise there wouldn't have been a need."_

_Jesse is wrong about everything._

_Everything except for that._

* * *

_“Big three need cleaning,” Flint says._

_“You should get on that,” Alex tells him, fully intent on pulling rank._

_“Dad said it’s your job.”_

_“You’re a child,” Alex snaps, getting to his feet._

_It’s been five years since he had any reason to be there. Mara is old and withered and barely looks as he passes until she sees where he’s going. Alex doesn’t stop. He won’t be allowed in there unsupervised. Not being there doesn’t mean he’s blind to what goes on. The three of them are constantly misbehaving. They are adults and they no longer give anyone any quarter or make excuses for good intentions. They don’t forgive. Max is chained when he gets there but above the mask, his eyes are dark with fury. He lunges for him and it takes everyone to hold him down as Isobel throws her head back and laughs poisonously._

_“Too slow,” she sing songs and then turns to the other cell, “hey Mikey, come here.”_

_He hesitates. There’s a simmering anger to that’s almost palpable when Michael gets there. His mangled hand presses to the glass as he glares at Isobel. Alex wants to look away but he can’t. Michael’s eyes find him last and they lock on him. The simmering anger seems to go quiet. Isobel looks, waiting for a response and Michael just looks. Then he pushes his hand away._

_“Come on! Five years of yelling and now you’re silent?” Isobel demands. Michael glares and she rolls her eyes, “you shut up!”_

_“They’re using their powers! Lockdown protocol! Lockdown now!”_

_“Fuck you!” Michael’s voice is angry as they sedate Max and white gas starts to fill the cells, “fuck all of you! Iz!”_

_They pass out screaming each other’s names._

_Alex is glad to be sent back to Iraq._

_As he bleeds out in the desert, Michael’s name in his lips, he hopes the invasion he’s been taught his entire life to prepare for happens soon and puts them all out of their misery._

* * *

_Michael sees Alex in flitting, passing moments and each time there's less of him. He responds less. And less. Until finally Michael sees him moving past him. Only instead of the sure, quick steps that Alex always uses, that always hesitate when they get to his cell even if he never comes inside, there's a new step. And when Alex comes into view, he's propped up on two crutches and missing a leg. Michael scrambles to his feet like he hadn't in years. He smacks the glass. He demands that the thing looking like Alex look at him so he can tell it's a joke. A lie. But when Alex looks at him there's nothing but pain in his eyes and Michael knows it's him._

_"Alex?" Alex can't hear him through the glass when he whispers, "Alex!"_

_Alex hobbles away._


	5. Chapter 5

He chokes on the world as it comes back.

Michael is aware of his hand still pressed to Alex’s sternum. But Alex has shifted towards him and is griping the fabric of his borrowed shirt. For years he’s seen Alex being controlled, though for their entire lifetime together he’s always been guarded. Except for those fleeting moments of kindness that sometimes Michael thinks he’s imagined. There’s nothing guarded about Alex right now though. His eyes are closed tightly and his lips are parted as he takes harsh breaths. Michael can smell the stress on him. Most troubling are the tears that slip down his cheeks. He’s never seen emotion that naked, not for so long. When he goes to move his hand, Alex’s eyes fly open and one of his grips Michael’s wrist, anchoring his hand there. There’s panic in his eyes as he looks at him, Michael shifts forward and relaxes his fingers, moving the hand that’s flattened on the bed up to the crook of Alex’s elbow.

“How?” Alex chokes out, “my dad—“

“You’re not your dad,” Michael insists, pushing against the doubt that echoes from Alex, “you’re not,” he says, “Alex.”

Alex shakes his head and Michael falls silent, but he shifts closer again, enough to touch Alex’s metal leg with his foot. He tugs the sleeve of the shirt over his hand and carefully dries the tears from Alex’s cheeks. Alex turns his face into his palm and rolls his neck, enough to work the fabric down. It’s a small, awkward gesture that makes him look almost cat like. Michael would tease him if it hadn’t meant that is bare fingers were touching Alex’s tear stained skin. Maybe he’s got electric powers like Max because he swears that something shocks up his arm. He can feel Alex’s skin. The wetness, the smoothness, the coolness—he can feel his stubble against the side of his hand. Stubble isn’t supposed to matter this much, he thinks as he fans his fingers out and desperate to touch as much skin as possible. He pulls his hand from Alex’s sternum and grabs his other cheek. The connection is stronger when he touches the handprint, but the desperation to touch everything he’s only looked at is suddenly overwhelming. Alex opens his eyes as Michael touches under the shadows there and the sides of his nose, the corners of his mouth.

Feels him fighting a smile.

“Shut up,” Michael says, “I dreamed about this my entire life.”

Alex shifts closer, giving him permission and Michael leaves the lines of his mouth and sinks his fingers through Alex’s dark, fine, hair. He saw it briefly shaved off when Alex was recently back and it seemed like such a blasphemy for him to have no hair and Michael to be there with a head full of curls.  Now his hair is nearly to his ears. Alex doesn’t let go of him but his fingers slide up his arms, his eyes scanning Michael’s face and Michael nods frantically. Alex’s cool fingers reach up to his collar, never breaking contact even through the fabric. They curl over and his knuckles lightly touch Michael’s skin. Alex digs his teeth into his lip and Michael is irrationally glad that he is not the only one who is affected by this. Alex takes a deep breath before his fingers press against Michael’s neck and then he slides his whole hands against his shoulders under the fabric of his shirt. Michael has nothing to press against, he can just sit there as Alex’s brows draw together and his fingers slide up to the back of Michael’s skull.

“You’re warm,” He says and his voice holds more wonder than Michael has ever heard used to describe him.

“You knew that,” he says.

“But this is—“

“Different,” he breathes.

He knows Alex gets his hair cut, he’s watched it grow, but he can skim his fingers up the back of his neck and feel the hairs there. And Alex can carefully pull his fingers through Michael’s curls, a feat that even Michael can’t always accomplish painlessly. Michael’s mouth is dry at the feel of Alex’s cool skin on his. They fit together, balancing each other out as they explore the small, innocuous touches they’ve never been allowed to do before. He can feel the faint scar on Alex’s forehead that he’s watched get smaller and small as Alex has gotten bigger. Alex smoothes his fingers over every feature, like he’s trying to commit the feeling to memory. When his fingers leave, Michael feels hotter than before. He shifts even closer, plastering their thighs together. His fingers wind up fisting in Alex’s shirt as Alex ducks his head and pushes their foreheads together. He can feel Alex’s skin and the cool coming off his body but there are impossible layers between them.

“I know,” Alex says, “I know. We can’t—“ he shakes his head, not breaking the contact as Michael whines in protest, “we can’t. Soon. But all of this—“

“I’ll be fine,” Michael swears and Alex smiles.

“We have to be ready to go,” He says.

Michael groans because he has a point and he can feel himself on the edge of sensory overload, but he really isn’t thrilled that there’s a practical reason in the way of something is wanted so badly. Or he wants. Alex works his hand free and brings it to the palm print, smoothing his fingers to the colors and covering his hand with his own. They want, Michael amends. His own desire reflects back at him across the bond. But different. Forbidden. Michael has nothing to compare what he feels for Alex to. But Alex has a whole world out there. The only thing they have in common is their desire for the thing they cannot have. And now they can. But whereas he is dizzy with the leash being taken off, it’s Alex who knows about the abyss. He pushes against Alex experimentally and the dark haired man fights not to react.

“If we—“

“No-one’s going to catch us this second,” he says. Alex sighs but doesn’t say anything. Emboldened, Michael swings a leg over him and sits in his lap. It’s worth it for the stunned look on Alex’s face. There’s layers and layers of clothes between them, masking even their body temperature, but he can feel Alex’s muscles and Alex can feel his weight, “this okay?”

“I’m supposed to say no,” Alex says.

“Are you?” Michael asks, pushing himself up.  Alex grips his hips and keeps him right where he is.

“This isn’t fair,” Alex remarks.

“You just don’t like me being taller.”

Alex snorts and Michael feels his breath on his face. He realizes he can feel him breathing where their chests are touching. The skin that’s marked by his handprint presses against him with every breath that Alex takes. He’s watched Alex use techniques to calm himself down, but it’s usually from bad shit. And he hasn’t seen it in a while. Michael reaches up and pushes his fingers through Alex’s hair again, watching as Alex focuses on him. It’s not awkward but the intensity of it is phenomenal. He’s rocked by the knowledge that there’s nothing between them except for fabric. No glass, no guns, nothing.

“We can touch,” he says aloud, even though it’s the most obvious thing the world.

“I know,” Alex says, there’s a softness to his voice, of course he gets the weight of it.

“Can I kiss you?” Michael asks.

  
Apparently he’s captain obvious right now, but it’s hard not to be.  It’s impossible not to marvel at each new sensation. Alex wants him there, Alex wants to kiss him. But Alex has always wanted to kiss him. He can feel Alex’s want through the bond between them. Even if he couldn’t, there’s no mistaking the look on his face. Alex cups his cheeks in his hands and looks at him seriously, more seriously than he should with Michael straddling him like this.

“I think you’re power high,” he says, “Michael, I want to,” he stresses, “but right now—“ he trails off.

His practicality isn’t enough to kill the mood or the desire coursing through him, but it is enough to make him start to get off of him. He forgets that Alex is a guard though. He’s spent his entire life dealing with misbehaving aliens. Michael goes to move off and in one motion, Alex’s hands change their position and MIchael finds himself flat on the bed with Alex above him. His eyes widen in surprise as Alex holds himself above him, scanning his face again and Michael tilts his head defiantly.

“You sure about that?” He challenges.

Alex hangs his head.

The guards aren’t supposed to show weakness, that’s like guard 101. Even as a kid when Alex would sit outside his cell he wouldn’t show anything resembling fear or pain. Even when he’d show up with bruises from fuck knows what. Now he drops his head to Michael’s collarbone and sighs, like this is hard. And frustrating. And sure maybe he’s got a point that the circumstances are so fucked up they shouldn’t be doing it, but who the fuck knows how messed up things are going to get?

“You know it’s not really our first kiss,” Michael offers, “if you think about it—“

“Michael—“

“I’m just saying,” he argues as Alex lifts his head and looks at him, “not that I’m complaining.”

Alex lets out a weak laugh and Michael feels his guilt and despair through the bond. He’s never tried to focus his emotions in this way, he’s never established one of these bonds on his own. He’s not sure he can frame it properly, what Alex has done and what he means to him. But he tries, pushing every good feeling he’s tried to bury away towards the other man. Alex relaxes slightly, some of the tension bleeding out of him as he holds himself over Michael. A look close to pain comes on his face and Michael feels a stab of panic but Alex just leans forward and presses his lips to Michael’s forehead.

It’s not the kiss he wants, but he’s willing to take it.

He manages to shift so they're laying side by side on the bed. They're nowhere near the pillows, but Michael's never been in a bed that's big enough for him to sleep horizontally instead of properly. But even with the seemingly endless amounts of space the mattress has, he winds up on his side facing Alex. Despite what happened earlier, his fingertips are gentle when they touch the mark on him. Michael doesn't let himself linger on the sight of Alex laying there bleeding out, instead he focuses on the silvery handprint he's left on him. On how his emotions get louder when he brushes the marked skin and softer when he goes back to Alex's skin. Alex watches him before he takes his hand and then throws his arm around Michael's waist, pulling him closer. 

"You're not helping with this whole not kissing thing," Michael grumbles against his chest. 

Alex chuckles and the fact that Michael can feel it in his cheek might make up for it. 

Almost. 


End file.
